


Something New

by HydenLynch



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: F/M, as long as its good you know?, but hey thats fine, random strange magic au i work on when i have free time, yall will be confused
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-09-02 10:39:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16785301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HydenLynch/pseuds/HydenLynch
Summary: So many things say this is a bad idea. And yet, these two deserve to be happy more than anyone else. They deserve something new, different from their painful lives.





	1. Chapter One

This was something new.

Cruel sunlight glaring through cracks in the poorly kept ceiling.

Blazing into his furious eyes and forcing him to close them and try to appear brave, knowing someone must be watching.

The ropes cut deeply into his wrists but his natural amour prevented wounds from appearing.

Still hurt like hell though.

The blood was all pooled in his shoulders since his arms were elevated, it felt like he was being stabbed by pins and needles everywhere.

He heard the clattering of footsteps passing his “chamber” so to speak.

Various shouts and orders could be heard, but he couldn’t understand a word they spoke. Judging from the urgency in their voices it must be something big. It was for a split second that he wished his father and mother permitted him to study the Papillon language for occasions such as this.

He winced as he attempted to lean forward, hoping to make out at least one or two words amongst the wave of orders and instructions.

The blood had stopped flowing through his arms hours ago.

He let out a low growl as the loud marching grew distant and he hadn’t succeeded in making out a single word.

Now he knew they’re respective tongues didn’t share the same roots.

Part of him hoped that the discourse was because his father had finally arrived to bring him home. There was no way the royal family would risk their only heir getting killed before his reign could even start.

Whatever argument had happened between his father and the Papillon king had nothing to do with him, this was a personal threat between the Papillon and the Oca. That was the only thing he knew for sure, because the Papillon weren’t exactly in favor of kidnapping thirteen-year-old boys unless it was to draw someone out.

The fact that he was in no real danger brought some comfort to him, making it easier to provide a stiff upper lip to his captors.

He could no longer hear the clattering of armor and the barking orders from a language he couldn’t comprehend.

His enhanced hearing couldn’t even pick up the breathing of his guards.

Now if only he could feel his arms and find a way out of there.

Gently, he tried to move his wings to see if they were still awake.

The response was instant and he let out a pained shout as the blood quickly began to pulse through them.

It was going to take several minutes before they’d be strong enough to pull him against the chains.

He bit his lip to distract from the pain, he didn’t want his father to find him in tears.

A disappointed glare was the last thing he could use at this moment.

He felt them begin to expand inch by inch and spread out, but he was too afraid of the pain to try and flap them. So he kept his gaze on the floor in front of him, counting out the seconds and deciding that in maybe ten minutes they’d be recovered enough to move.

Groaning as he kept losing count.

Wincing as that groan reverberated throughout his head and making something pound in his chest.

Waking his wings up was taking all of his energy.

Then, he heard the creaking of his door.

It was slow and only made the pounding worse.

He snarled and shot his head up to glare at his visitor. Hardened features softening when he saw it wasn’t a foolish looking soldier coming to make fun of how hideous he looked compared to them.

No language barrier could prevent him from knowing when people were talking down on him.

Instead, at the door was a girl.

She stared at him in fear for a second, gripping on tightly to the doorknob. But a look of conviction came over her lovely face and she took a big step forward, closing the door behind her. Wincing at how loudly the sound of her slamming the door had turned out.

As the girl stepped into the scattered sunlight, he felt his breath hitch in his throat.

Her hair was shoulder length, shiny light blonde but as the sun shifted around her, he saw it gleam pink.

Her cheeks sported that same pink shine that only made her dark brown eyes pop out to him more.

Her clothes were loose and flowing, a staple of Papillon fashion due to their fragile wings. But he was able to recognize the sparkling white dress as something higher class. He knew this girl.

But only from pictures.

Pictures of the Papillon’s royal family.

She was their youngest daughter, though he never cared enough to learn any of their names. Even less so now that the family had him chained in a back room of their palace.

As those glittering brown eyes fearlessly locked onto his and she walked toward him faster, he suddenly felt ashamed for being in her presence. She was perfectly beautiful. A regular jewel walking towards a pile of charcoal. He was ashamed that she looked at him without that underlying fear or disgust that he even saw in the eyes of the king himself.

She was not afraid of him.

Nor was she disgusted by him.

In fact, he’d say this strange young girl was looking on at him in…...in awe.

Of all things.

He found himself holding his breath the closer she got to him. Not sure if she deserved the slurs he had thrown at everyone else that had entered his room. Those eyes almost numbing his body once more, making him totally forget about the pain of reviving his wings.

Her lips were parted as she let out a soft gasp.

Eyes scanning his bindings.

Her voice was light and airy, gentle and floating through the air around them. It had him completely captivated.

“Je suis désolé….”

He almost choked on his own breath when her small and pale hand reached out and touched his forearm. The soft touch sent a wave of relief flowing into his tense arms. He felt as if he had been set on fire and the blaze was leaving a trail of….. of……. he didn’t know what but it caused his wings to spring outwards, totally awake.

No stretched muscles or strained joints.

The girl had sprung back in shock at the dramatic reaction to her touch.

But, once again, she did not seem afraid of him.

It must have been some sort of healing spell she used on him. And a powerful one at that, which was impressive since she didn’t look that much older than him.

She still looked up at him with those beautiful eyes, hands clasped in front of her. And he was absolutely shocked.

Why would the princess of the family that had initially kidnapped him be here in front of him?

Looking perfect and uncorrupted.

Now he definitely didn’t feel worthy to have her before him.

Her perfection and lack of malice towards him only seemed to anger him, he sent her a low growl and the smile vanished from her face.

She spoke again and he wondered if the sound of her voice was always going to send chills up his body.

“Non- je ne suis pas là pour te blesser! Mon nom est Aube!” 

He could tell she was over enunciating her words, as if that would help him understand a lick of what she said.

He growled at her again.

“I don’t know what you’re saying flightless.”

She stared at him blankly, clearly in the same boat as him.

Even the guards recognized that familiar slur regarding their useless wings. But she seemed totally clueless. But to be fair he didn’t know what any of the guards ever said back to him, probably something along the lines of how monstrous he looked at such a young age.

The girl took a couple steps forward and he felt his wings twitch, they must know she’s the one that sent the blood flowing through them.

She then placed her hands on her chest and spoked again, a little louder.

Hoping pitch would help any.

It didn’t.

“MON!! NOM!!! EST!! AUBE!!!!!!!“

He flinched back and her eyes widened.

She jumped forward, speaking too fast for him to even discern if she was saying words or was opening her mouth and seeing what would come out.

“I can’t understand you Butterwings….”

Butterwings seemed to silence her.

Her eyes widened, forcing him to look directly into them, and she blushed.

They stayed staring at each other for what must’ve been several minutes. Her blushing and him frowning. They weren’t getting anywhere.

He didn’t even know why this princess was in his presence to begin with.

If anything, he was in her presence.

Suddenly, the girl gasped and ran back, turning to the door and disappearing behind it.

Leaving him alone with the cruel sunlight.

His wings fell limp against his back and he felt his face heat up. Somehow her merely being in the room had kept them awake, alive. He pretended he had completely forgotten what it meant to keep wings alert on their own.

It had only been a few seconds before she returned, and he realized the room seemed to glow and the sun almost softened.

He didn’t know if it was real or he was just so intoxicated by her that the room just morphed in his head. She was smiling again and his wings flitted without him telling them to, and she was holding something wrapped in white cloth. It only took him a second to get a whiff of just what it was.

Cheese, bread and nectar.

Easy things to sneak out of the kitchen.

She definitely was not supposed to be here.

And yet, here she was.

Unwrapping the bundle and sure enough, lifting up a small wedge of yellow cheese to his mouth.

He frowned.

Sure, he was really hungry and the overwhelming smell of the cheese was driving him crazy, but being hand fed like this by the Papillon princess seemed degrading.

Something he didn’t need to add to his reputation.

It was really hard to resist her happy, dark oak eyes that were coaxing him to eat something.

But he managed to keep him mouth screwed shut, probably looking like a picky child. And it was possible that’s what she thought he was being because she pulled the cheese away and took a small bite.

She then let out an exaggerated, “Mmmmm!!!” Trying to convince him to eat it.

Some part of him couldn’t prevent a smile from coming out.

And he regretted it as soon as she saw it, her face freezing in shock.

He was always going to be hideous, he knew that and shouldn’t have carelessly flashed his sharp teeth at this perfect angel.

But that frozen expression changed, not into disgust but total awe. The way she looked up at him you’d think she was watching the sun and the moon meeting on the horizon.

He wasn’t worthy of that awe, it made his body droop under her gaze.

He turned his head to look away from her but she stepped forward, reaching up and resting her hand on his cheek, gently forcing him to look down at her again. “Tu as l’air beau…”

That haunting voice again.

Just above a whisper.

As if revealing a secret only he needed to know.

Her eyes were filled with that soft sunlight and he had no resistance to it. Hell, he doubted the whole of his father’s army had a resistance for all that deep brown.

Her thumb rubbed his jaw a few times before she slowly pulled away and he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, feeling his wings go limp against his back. Then she went and picked up the cheese again, holding it next to his mouth again. Only this time his lips were parted and she spoke again, “Mangez l’ange…”

Damn that soft perfection was all he needed.

Taking a big bite of the cheese and swallowing it in seconds.

They did that for what felt like hours.

Sometimes she would dip the cheese in the little jar of nectar, only making it sweeter. She didn’t stop feeding him until the cheese and bread were gone.

It was the only decent meal he had gotten in the 48 hours he had been there.

Fed to him by a mesmerizing angel from which he couldn’t understand a word. Every thirteen-year-old’s dream right?

Once he had finished, she gave him that same look of fondness then rested her hand on his cheek again. Gently caressing and stroking his jawline, the fond look turning apologetic. Upset that her family had resorted to chaining a young boy up in their unused back chamber. For the sake of feud, no less.

Eventually, she had to leave him alone once again.

But she did it slowly in every action.

Walking backwards so slowly he noticed the sun had begun to set around them.

And then all at once she was gone.

All at once he was alone with moonlight.

All at once the soldiers wearing that familiar crest belonging to his family burst into the room.

All at once he was in his sobbing mother’s arms.

All at once the hatred for the Papillon reignited.

All at once he forgot everything about those hours with a princess.


	2. Chapter Two

She’s playing with her hair again.

Knowing that her parents were going to chew her out for it later, but it was hard to pay attention when her gleaming blonde hair reached her knees and she was able to braid every little bit.

Not to mention the topic at hand was one she was never very keen on being a part of.

“Their attacks are becoming faster and with more force, my guess is they want to finish this war quickly without needing to sign any sort of treaty. In true brutish Oca fashion.”

Her father was standing at the head of a very long table, covered in maps and failed strategies. Lists of casualties.

Men and woman sat around the table, all trying to think of some way to have this grizzly war work out in their favor. Aube knew better than that, they were fighting a pointless battle for the sake of fighting, everyone being far too stubborn to back away from a clash with no purpose.

“The Papillon never used to be this bone-headed.” Aube said just under her breath.

But her people’s enhanced hearing was revered, and that meant all eyes were on her before she was forced to look up at her father’s scowling face.

Gulping, she bit her lip and looked down at the arrangement of braids on her lap.

“A-All I’m saying is we have nothing to gain from this war…… Our people used to only ever want to pursue peace with others. Regardless of appearance.” She sent an accusing glare to everyone. At least she hoped it was a glare, aggression of any form wasn’t really her thing.

In fact, the only reason she was in this meeting was because she wasn’t married yet.

So, her parents must’ve figured she wanted to be like her eldest sister Mari.

Never married and is currently a respected general.

But Aube wasn’t nearly as into fighting for her kingdom as Mari was when she was nineteen. And while the idea of falling in love made her giddy, she wasn’t really sure what it felt like to be legitimately in love. Her main experience with it was sending love letters to dashing young guards and then flirting with them over tea and cakes before moving on a month later.

She heard that familiar sigh from her father as he said in a tired tone, “Aube, the world has changed beyond peace and blind faith. The reason we are a strong and thriving kingdom is because we didn’t let the Oca march all over us.”

Aube avoided his glare.

Still not convinced a war was required when the Oca weren’t the ones who threw the first punch.

She knew everyone was avoiding being involved in the royal family’s matters, used to the king lecturing his daughters in the presence of everyone.

A hot wash of shame ran over her as he scolded her, a bright red blush all over her face as she saw people avoid eye contact with anything in her direction. Nothing embarrassed her more than receiving pity from people when she knew she didn’t deserve it.

Having a nagging father wasn’t ideal but she didn’t need anyone to feel sorry for her.

Not when she lived in a palace, she was never hungry or in pain.

Knowing there were so many people who needed that attention, and right now it was all on her.

So, she bit her lip and looked up from her braids, meeting the nags head on and refusing to let this get to her.

-

“And everybody felt sorry for me! I wish he would stop dragging me into those meetings, I’ll consider arranged marriage at this point if that’s what will get me out of it!”

Aube took an angry slurp of her coffee, immediately choking on the hot liquid and coughing it back into the mug.

Her older sister, Evangelyne, giggled as she bobbed her knee up and down, eliciting an excited squeal from her chubby, little baby. “Blow on it before throwing it up all over Mama’s white tablecloths.” She then leaned down and blew on her son’s face, earning another happy laugh.

Aube pouted as she wiped her coffee covered chin.

“And you know our parents do not support arranging us with husbands. It needs to be our choice. Otherwise no wedding is gonna happen.” Eva reached over and grabbed her own mug, dramatically blowing on it, no doubt to mock Aube.

She groaned and put her coffee down, “Easy for you to say….. you got lucky by falling in love with the head landscaper.”

Eva chuckled, “That was far from easy Bee. Remember there was always the chance he wouldn’t say yes to my proposal.” Aube scoffed and rolled her eyes, “Nobody can turn you down Eva, you’re beauty and grace personified…”

Another chuckle, “Really? I remember all of the boys being afraid of me because of my tendency to kick them in the shins.”

Aube raised an eyebrow at her, blowing into the ceramic mug.

Eva was graced with their mother’s gorgeous and renowned dirty blonde, red hair that looked like dying embers underneath the sunset. On top of that, Eva’s skill with growth magic lead to several species of flower to grow along with her hair.

Not only men but all people were rendered speechless at the sight of her sparking flora paired with intoxicating, golden eyes.

On top of that, she was funny.

Really funny.

Making even the servants feel comfortable and special.

No wonder she was able to marry one.

And then there was Mari…

Mari was the picture of beauty paired with icy brown eyes and a firm face, one that softened every so often. She had gotten their father’s dark brown hair with golden streaks glistening throughout it, almost like tinsel. She had always kept it short and messy but it didn’t change how attractive she was.

Of course, Mari had never cared too much about her looks.

Especially since marriage didn’t interest her.

Aube was a little bit of a black sheep. With her long, gleaming blonde hair that showed hints of pink under the sunlight. Same with her skin, even in the dimly lit library they were in right now there was a clear pink shimmer in her complexion. Her mother had told her that it was because of her extremely powerful healing magic that her hair had gone light blonde and a pink sheen had appeared.

People came from all over the world to be, at the very least, touched by Aube’s magic hands. Ones that could heal any pain or illness in a snap. Or, in this case, a touch.

When she was only ten, Aube had already become a miracle cure all over the world.

Her parents were already as proud of her as any parents could be.

Aube had seen her fair share of happy tears. Tears in response to her touch. She knew she was so many people’s last hope all over the world. That her powers had saved so many lives and she never asked anything in return.

The words that always floated around her said that she was almost too good to be true.

That there had to be some sort of catch with her.

Nobody could have that much power and that much kindness all together. The universe never granted those sorts of realities.

And yet, here she was.

A delicate flower who was more than happy to use her precious magic for those who really needed it.

She did not object the scientists that would come from all over just to study her and that absolutely massive amount of power she had at her fingertips. Something unheard of for a nineteen-year-old much less a ten-year-old. Fine breeding or otherwise.

Her mother was nearly fifty-six and her healing magic was nowhere near as vast as Aube’s.

It was a puzzle.

One Aube never cared to solve.

The powers were for the people and she was glad to have them.

Still, there was always a, “But.”

And Aube’s was her wondering if this was all she needed to achieve in life?

Was this all there was for her?

Had she already reached the summit after a mere decade of living?

She really didn’t need to try and find herself in something else? It was just that easy?

Aube had pondered these questions for almost nine years, never really getting a straight answer from anyone. These questions were getting particularly loud now that the discussion of marriage was floating around her head.

It was strange, just how anxious she could be while remaining totally peaceful.

Perhaps that’s what came with being a princess, pressure pushed down on them but typically a princess would not budge.

Stirring more nectar into her coffee, Aube blew a strand of hair out of her face.

It stubbornly remained in place.

“Bee, you don’t need to be in a hurry to find a groom. The lineage has been taken care of.” Eva nodded down toward her babbling little prince. His wings were basically wet paper towels at this point in his life. Too early to tell if they were warrior wings or display wings.

After Eva had given birth to her first daughter last spring, the worry about an heir was dissipated and expectations on both Eva and Aube were lifted.

Now that the expectations were gone, Aube wondered what she really wanted for herself.

What would help give her life more meaning beyond her healing hands?

“Yes, I know Eva…. but- I- just- “ She locked eyes with her sister as she struggled to find a response, “I want to be in love. I want to love someone so much that I can’t imagine a life without them.” She clasped her hands together and bit her lip, Eva was smiling fondly and nodding.

“I understand, but your love is you own choice. The very first time I saw Gabriel, I didn’t instantly see stars and angels didn’t descend from the heavens to sing love songs to me.”

Aube giggled and took a sip of her drink.

“In fact, I’d say it wasn’t until maybe a year after we met that suddenly my heart said something. When life became warm and dizzy and sweet…. And it was because he had tripped over his gardening shears and flew into the lilypad pond in the courtyard.” Eva chuckled and lifted her mug to her lips, taking a big gulp and squeezing her son closer to her torso with her free arm. “That, of all things, was what made me finally think, ‘It’s him. I want him. I need him.’ Fate is hardly a predictable thing Bee. Trying to predict it is one of people’s greater mistakes.”

-

Aube had left Eva and her baby alone in the library after she finished her coffee and took a few bites of cake.

As extroverted as she could be, Evangelyne was a famed lover of books and had most likely read every book in the royal collection twice at this point.

She’d be sure to tell Gabriel where his wife was if she saw him.

For now, Aube was gliding through the palace halls, making her way toward the back corridors. Those were the places she felt the most comfortable, basking in the sunlight of the open windows and letting the air soothe her usually aching wings.

Aube’s wings were a very special case, much like the rest of her.

They were a dark blue that glittered like the night sky under the moonlight, she was told it was a captivating sight to behold. She wouldn’t know, since she couldn’t actually see her pattern from a good enough angle. Ironically enough, while her wings only glittered in the moonlight, the rest of her glistened pink under the sunlight. The thing they both had in common was the light didn’t need to be very strong for the magic to take effect.

On top of being “captivating” her wings were also incredibly weak. Even merely letting them hang limp against her back made them sore.

She very rarely risked extending them out to show off, for fear of breaking them.

And if they didn’t break, then she would feel plenty of shooting pains going through them for hours.

Unlike both of her sisters who were gifted with particularly tough warrior wings. Flapping them about to do something as small as convey their emotion.

The only time Aube’s wings did not hurt was when she was lying or sitting down and able to rest them against something. The running explanation was that due to her incredible amount of magical power, her wings never developed the standard muscles that even display wings have to make sure the owner can actually lift them.

It was times like these that Aube was just thrilled that she couldn’t use her healing magic on herself.

But she wouldn’t complain.

Sore wings were hardly something to whine about.

So, she sighed and closed her eyes, letting the calm wind cool and relax her irritated wings.

It was one of the few things that helped her keep her focus off the throbbing. Embracing the breeze and counting the doors as she took light steps through the halls.

She had been in every one of these rooms over the course of several years, dating back to when the pain in her wings became too distracting to bear. But, no matter how many rooms she explored and discovered, she always found herself lingering in front of the room at the very end, no light shining on the door.

Every door in the palace was ornate and covered in various golden shapes depending on the artist.

She’d spend hours admiring the beauty and detail on each door.

But the one she always spent the most time staring at was the plain, wooden door hidden in the back of her home. The room behind it hadn’t been used in several years, Aube smiled as she placed her hand against the worn wood. ‘It’ll be a decade in the summer…’ she thought as she found the knob. The cold metal sending shivers through her body, she inhaled deeply as she pushed the door open.

That familiar creak brought a fond smile to Aube’s face as she recalled the first time she heard that creak.

She could remember the way the sunlight glared through the windows and caused her vision to be overwhelmed by the powerful, pink reflections in the corners of her sight. Aube wondered if she had looked like a giant, pink firefly since even she was able to see that pink shimmer radiating off her skin.

She frowned at the thick, silk curtains that now blocked any form of light from getting in.

Where were these curtains ten years ago when the glaze had first appeared?

The marble floors had also been scrubbed and waxed to perfection. Her dulled reflection observing her as she did the same.

The floors had been filthy.

Covered in dust and mud, both showing a wide array of footprints that told her men were going in and out of this room frequently, most of them wearing the heavy, black boots that indicated guards were the ones to visit this room often.

However, all the tracks did not dare to be within five feet of the center of the room.

While the cruel sunlight could be blocked and a guard’s strong footprints could be scrubbed away, this room’s original purpose could not be hiding. Least of all from Aube.

Two small metal loops sat parallel to one another on opposite walls, both of them screwed tightly into the wood surface. Those loops had many awful stories to tell, all you needed to do was ask and they’d reveal all the pain they caused.

They’d tell the story of two long, silver chains that were made to grind into the wrists of men who had done wrong.

Or men who had no ill intention to offer.

Sometimes, these chains would cause tears and other times they’d bring forth screams.

Nobody ever thought to stop the chains and the pain that surrounded them.

Until Aube had stolen a servant’s lunch and crept all the way through those halls and pushed open the door. It had earned her a creak, as if the door was calling for the guards to return from wherever they had been ordered to.

She trampled over the wave of men’s tracks.

And went beyond them as she stepped to the center of the room. Glaring at the chains that were taking so much pride in causing this beautiful creature pain.

She layed her new healing hands on his rough skin, surprised at the feeling on tree bark beneath her fingers. Feeding him small bites that she knew he needed, ignoring the growling and objections she received. Partially because she couldn’t understand a word he said.

Always surprised to see his wings jolt with every touch she pressed on him.

By the time the food was gone and the chain’s pain had subsided, Aube became totally in enraptured by the boy before her. His vicious skin and sharp tongue totally drowned out by the beautiful blue eyes he presented her.

They were lonely and in pain, and they were thanking her.

A thank you that felt so different from the people in tears giving her all this gratitude she didn’t believe she had earned.

But, those eyes told her so much.

They apologized every time he lashed out at her and seemed to reciprocate her smiles whenever she sent them.

And somehow, he looked just as awestruck and breathless as she felt.

Perhaps all the pink assaulting her vison was the cause of her sped up heartbeat and the dizzy feeling in her head. Then again, maybe it wasn’t.

Aube rested on her knees in the center of the room, between those two merciless loops, and she smiled.

‘Amazing that he’s already taken over the throne at twenty-three…’ She thought as she absent-mindedly stroked the floor next to her.

‘I hope he’s gotten enough time to recover from the death of his father…… I hope he’s not alone…’

It occurred to her that now he was the one fighting the battle against them, sending out a barrage of powerful attacks and not giving them time to recover. Possibly trying to end his father’s war before it became his own.

‘No telling what he has planned to end this bloodshed…’

She chuckled to herself, ‘Ten years later and I’m still sitting in the center of this room and thinking about him….’

‘Maybe he wants to get married…’ She joked as she began to braid her hair again.

This room was the only room in the palace where she didn’t even notice the pain of her wings, draping them out gently against the cool marble sent a rush of relief through her body. She’d spend who knows how long sending positive thoughts to the new Oca king whom she had connected with so long ago.

She figured if anyone could use some friendly thoughts, it’d be the boy that could only tell her how he felt through his eyes.

She closed her eyes and inhaled, the room smelled of musty rugs and old curtains that tried to hide ten years’ worth of shame. Still disappointed that the room didn’t smell like anything important to her, like fresh bread or a jar of nectar. But she was calm, relaxed even, nonetheless.

Suddenly, her heightened senses were overloaded with the sounds of broken glass.

Her eyes shot open and she turned to her left, where the drapes had been pulled back and those old windows had been shattered. That damned pink returned and her vision became distorted as the ruthless sun beamed brightly into the room.

She could just barely make out a tall, dark figure standing amongst the pieces of the window at their feet.

Aube only had time to see her attacker’s wings, that definitely were not Papillon.

She could her the stomping of a guard’s black boots but it was too late.

By the time the soldier reached the room, the princess was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N ‘If you have any questions don’t hesitate to ask them!’


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's still a lack of air between them.
> 
> Panting that's driving them insane.
> 
> Now that they're older, they know what all of this means.
> 
> And it scares them.

This wasn’t how things needed to be done, he knew that perfectly.

But this war was not how he wanted to start his reign; cleaning up his father’s mess and wasting time.

He had only needed to hear the proposal once before biting his chapped lip and nodding, giving his people the order. The order to bring back a fairy.

A deep pit had long since formed in his chest since the go ahead was given. The thumbs up to kidnap Aube, miracle child of the Papillon kingdom. His heart would speed up at random moments, always taking the time to remind him of just what he had approved. The very same thing that happened to him nearly a decade ago.

A last-ditch effort to end a war with no goal.

Blackmail.

The butterfly-winged soldiers had come in the dead of the night and all he could see was the glow of their wings. Like haunting eyes the size of the moon glaring down at him, grabbing him out of his bed and shoving something sweet down his throat that stopped him from screaming.

Screaming for help.

Out of fear.

He could feel tears streaming down his cheeks and down his neck.

He was sure he was gasping out desperately for air.

Just anything to make the bindings on his wrists hurt less.

And now here he was – standing before a small woman with ropes cutting into the thin skin of her arms.

She looked a little dazed, her eyes were swollen and red.

He recognized that unique pink glimmer dancing on her hair and complexion, surprised that she was still just as breathtaking as he remembered her. The legendary healer of Primevère, no taller than one of the potted trees in his chambers, but powerful enough to put any of his mages to shame.

The prerequisite being that her magic only built things up.

As he stared down at her, and her limp body (having fainted of shock the second she was captured) knowing that a frail Papillon like her would have only difficulties adapting to the Droighneach.

It had been a painful experience readjusting to the climate and smells of her land.

And his world wasn’t exactly a walk in the park to live in, much less visit.

Or be forced there against one’s wishes.

Semantics.

The young man feared touching her, not because she was unconscious (although that didn’t aid his concerns) but because she was such a pure reservoir of power and protection and health.

And all the things he had nothing to do with.

She did not belong amongst cruel people like the Oca, he knew that.

But he did not care.

His fear of her only made him hate her and her glistening skin even more. The astounded look he was sporting quickly melted into a familiar scowl as he turned his head and motioned for the two guards carrying her to throw her in one of the empty rooms along the abandoned halls.

Preferably cold. 

-

He spent several hours just writhing around the throne room, out of boredom or anxiety he wasn’t actually sure.

Ashamed that he was having such trouble remaining stoic in front of his father’s – no – his subjects.

‘It shouldn’t be this hard to clean up father’s discretions…’

He groaned and ran his hands up his forehead stopping at the back of his neck. His mother couldn’t stand when he’d blame the war on his father’s actions, he knew very well that the Papillon were the one’s to make the first move.

Their fear of the Oca getting the best of them, deciding they’d rather eat than be eaten.

Looking down at his weathered green hands, he knew he wasn’t as awe inspiring as a flitty little butterfly boy. But he was durable, the possibility of him getting torn to shreds after one attack was nowhere near as probable as one of the excuses for soldiers over on the other side of the front lines.

‘And yet here they are having the upper hand..’

Well they used to, but now he had their young daughter locked away in his palace.

They definitely knew where she was by now, lucky for him the negotiation papers had been prepared hours ago. A treaty was ready to be signed in exchange for their little princess. He scoffed and rolled his eyes, the Papillon had always been sentimental stooges; caving in at the first sign of personal loss.

His father had not been the one to storm the palace and save him from his bitter shackles.

He had merely sent men in his stead.

Not willing to show vulnerability in front of the enemy.

And neither would he.

Sentiment was for kings who did not want prosperity, that was something he still believed. It’s meaning having more power now that he sat in the center throne. His word instilling fear and happiness to all beneath his broad gaze, he had yet to get a full night’s rest.

He bit his tongue as he sensed a yawn rising up in the back of his throat, knowing that his guards and advisor could see every little action.

His advisor, Siùcar, was casually leaning against the arm of his throne and doodling flowers along the edges of her parchment. Tucking dark purple hair behind her ear and humming a flighty tune; a little too flighty for his taste but he was too preoccupied to tell her to shut up.

Throwing another gaze toward the main entrance to the room, dreading the entrance of a guard announcing the princ – the prisoner’s consciousness.

“You’ve been bouncing your head back and forth between me and the dumb door for the passed hour babe. Maybe you should take a shot of something if you’re so nervous to see the girl.” He whipped his head in her direction, eyes wide and mouth agape, “I – I am not afraid of a froofy little girl, one that put up no fight when she was taken.”

“I never said you were afraid, just nervous. Afraid of a little girl huh? She’s somethin’ special and she ain’t even awake yet.” She looked down at him with a sly smirk on her lips.

He was frozen, she had got him and he had no comeback.

He really needed to get the hang of this stoic king thing.

He ignored the heat brimming at the tips of his ears, replying to her “accusations” with a snort and rolling his eyes. Subtly breaking eye contact with her in the process. But she knew him well, too well, and simply giggled bringing her attention back to the rows of primroses she was sketching.

“Do you think she’ll remember you?”

That question was solemn and quiet, with no intention of overwhelming him or teasing him – merely just hoping for an answer.

He sighed and tilted his head back until he was looking up at the ceiling, a soft thud sounded as his head hit the back of his throne. She had taken all of his jumbling thoughts, that caused his mind so much fear and discomfort, and she had narrowed all those trembling ideas into one question.

This was why she was his head advisor.

-

Eventually that door had to be pushed open by a disheveled looking guard, caught by surprise. His eyes say enough, she’s awake and she’s scared.

He spends a few seconds too long standing in front of her – the prisoner’s -- door, clenching his fists and licking his dry lips. There was always a chance he’d choke on the dryness of the air around him the second he saw her, alive and well and probably terrified.

Opening the door, he scowled – instantly recognizing that haunting scent attached to the creatures that looked down on his people.

It was warm somehow, and a clear minty wave hit him as he stepped through.

It made him sick. His fists were tight and acting as a grapple to prevent him from growling out something – anything.

A bitter taste was sitting on his tongue as he spotted a small pink frame kneeled out on the middle of the bed. It contrasted the dark browns surrounding her and it only made his scowl deepen, this monster trapped within his walls was the cause of pain for his people.

All because they thought their contrast was too drastic.

And as he stared at the pale pinks and yellows of this alien he was inclined to agree.

He didn’t like her.

But her long golden blonde hair with that tantalizing shimmer hadn’t changed.

He remembered that intensity well, being chained to a wall made it hard for him to not focus on her. Her dark brown eyes were swimming with an apology and a protective intent. He was never able to forget that look.

And now, he saw those eyes again; just staring him down with fear and pleas floating in the wide space between them.

A shiver ran up his spine and his wings tingled, that reaction alone being enough to make him want to turn tail and escape whatever power this creature held over him.

Ten years of not daring to spare this girl a second thought and one glance into her eyes and his wings recalled her.

Those thick lashes were going to be his undoing.

She had grown – same as him he supposed.

Staying delicate and yet fierce, like her sister. He’d had his fair share of run-ins with Mari and she was a force to be reckoned with. Although, the general definitely had a clear aura of pure hatred, as if seeing him as the scum of the earth.

This small princess looked drowsy, and a tad guarded, which would make sense since she’d been incapacitated for around three days.

That sleeping spell clearly was too powerful for somebody with barely any body mass.

Her head lulled back and forth and he noted that not a single scar decorated her shoulders.

A poke of anger returned to him, of course the Papillon would keep the royal family as detached from the madness as possible. Couldn’t take the risk of losing one of them.

Suddenly, the scars decorating his body seemed to burn in an effort to remind him how he was never gonna be as soft as this butterfly. He looked like dried out leather while she was still as gorgeous as silk.

Of course that was unfair but beneath his anger and disdain was jealousy. Clear as day it was there.

A whole tower of his castle had crumbled down to the ground and landed on top of a section of the soldier’s barracks, maybe twenty soldiers were still unaccounted for. He had earned a kingdom already in ruin, people’s spirits already diminished and hope altogether gone.

This girl had something still beautiful and worthy to return to.

The desolation surrounded by gray skies was what he was fighting to protect.

And he still was doing it, to the best of his shaken abilities.

When he finally spoke, he added filling his mouth with cotton to the list of unbearable effects she left on him.

“I’m guessin’ ya know why yer here?”

Those words danced across her face for a few seconds – unfortunately leaving a layer of confusion. So in the ten years apart, neither of them had learned the other’s tongue. That was gonna make things difficult to say the least, he wasn’t much of a talker to begin with and now he had to communicate with a creature who couldn’t make a lick of sense from anything that came out of his mouth.

“Quelles sont vos intentions?”

Ah.

There it was.

A voice soft enough to haunt the corners of his mind, certainly it had matured but it was still as gentle as he could recall.

“I-“ He cursed the deep crack in his voice, the raise of her eyebrows showing she had noticed it, “Ahem…. I have brought ya here to put an’ end to the destruction of ma kingdom. Ma people…”

He took a step forward in an effort to express the fact that everything beneath him was at his mercy.

Annoyed that she didn’t tremble at the power he could easily squash her with.

It almost felt smug – the way she looked up at him without a twinge of understanding in her oaky eyes. She already knew everything didn’t she? This all just was some sort of childish game to her now.

And then she spoke again, with just a hint of cold in her voice – barely sending a spike of hostility his way.

“Est-ce une menace pour mon père?”

It irked him that her responses were just so quiet yet steady, she was neither angry nor afraid and that showed in the steadiness of her tone.

He had no clue what she was saying but the fact remained, she felt safe.

And no prisoner of the Oca should ever feel safe, especially if they were a prisoner of the king.

It happened in a flash, he barely felt it happen and wasn’t sure if he had asked his arm to do that – fairly similar to his twitching wings.

He had grabbed onto the strap of her white dress, yanking her up with such force that she let out a cry of pain. Now they were eye-to-eye and he finally saw that fear just beneath the surface, a wicked grin playing across his face – now having no shame in hiding his pointed teeth.

“I can understand how this might feel like a fun little blast from tha past Ms. Aube.”

Her lip was pressed into a tight line, to hide the quivering no doubt.

“But I can assure ya, I’m not that scared little boy anymore…”

Whether she could understand him or not, he knew she was listening to every word passing over his lips.

“And you…”

He brought her closer so they were practically nose to nose.

“…Are no longer that brave little girl are ya?”

He brought her back away from him, glad to have finally pushed his point across.

She should be afraid.

He could see it swimming in her eyes.

And when he looked back into them he saw…..

Wait.

What was that?

It wasn’t fear or aggression.

It..

It looked familiar.

It hit him like a bullet through the head, hollowing him out.

He was a liar.

Those were the same eyes of a breathless little girl that saw something other than the scarred monster before her.

She was looking at something beautiful, he saw the way all that dark brown sparkled.

He dropped her onto the bed taking one – two – probably eight steps back.

She bounced back as well, a knock ringing throughout the room as her head banged against the headboard of the enormous bed.

Both of them at a loss for words, the princess rubbing her injury and giving him those same, haunting eyes.

He opened his cotton filled mouth, most likely to ask a question (probably something along the lines of ‘Why??”) but he coughed instead. And that was a good enough sign to make a run for it, not daring to spare the fairy a second glance.

As he kicked open the door and let it slam behind him, he placed his hands on his knees and began to pant.

That whole interaction had left him completely winded.

“Want me to take a crack at it your majesty?”

He sent a glare in Siùcar’s general direction, still struggling to catch his breath – to forget the look in her eyes.

He heard the creak of the door and a soft thud, the advisor throwing her name into the ring.

All the while a thought was continuing to suck his breath out of his lungs – almost as if he was drowning.

‘You still are that same scared little boy..’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Building sexual tension has never been my forte but I've had fun taking a crack at it with this story.
> 
> Any questions so far?


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being breathless can be good

Oh my God.

She panicked.

He was already out the door by the time she was back to her senses.

Aube had quite the fearless dialogue prepped and queued in her head, sitting in the back of her mind and ready to jump forward and attack.

And then she saw him, and damn it he’s every bit as beautiful as she remembered him.

The words he spewed hotly at her were muffled as she got lost looking at every new little scar that she didn’t recall ten years ago. A lot of things have hurt him since the chains let go of his wrists, and part of her wondered if Mari was behind any of them.

She heard a growl, that just tugged on her arm and yanked her back into that room with muddy boot prints.

How could he be the same and yet feel like a totally different person?

‘Maybe that’s what happened to me…’

Her fingers that were gripping on tightly to the scratchy sheets – belonging to a bed about twelve times bigger than her – were forced to let go abruptly and her wings sent a pulsing complaint at the sudden movement.

More specifically, her being lifted up from the mattress by the strap of her dress.

Bringing her closer to intoxicating blue eyes that haunted her dreams and caused her knees to go weak.

His low, rough voice sounded clearly and she knew that he was saying something important.

“Tha mi a 'tuigsinn mar a dh'fhaodadh seo a bhith a' faireachdainn beagan spòrs bho àm a dh'fhalbh, Ms. Aube.”

Heaven above save her from that voice.

That whole statement just rumbled throughout her chest – if she was supporting any weight on her legs it’s be fair to say she’d totally lose all composure and collapse.

And to make it all better, he kept going.

“Ach is urrainn dhomh a dhearbhadh, chan eil mi cho eagal a-nis….”

At this point she wasn’t even sure she was breathing anymore, too afraid to interrupt the string of words passing this celestial creature’s lips.

“Agus thusa…”

She swore she let out some sort of pathetic squeak as he brought her closer to his face, she could feel hot breath washing over her lips and Aube had never felt drier in her life.

“...Nach eil dad a-nis a th 'ann an nighean bheag treun?”

And all at once, it was quiet, the confidence in his scowl was all but gone and his mouth held agape, leaving Aube a glimpse at his teeth. Pointed and dangerous. Yet he had them hidden behind smirks and frowns, as if afraid to show them to anyone.

He’s really a marvel – something horrifying on paper and somehow, when all of his features culminated in person it left Aube absolutely speechless.

She was ashamed to call herself a princess of the Papillon when she was rendered catatonic before the enemy.

Although she wasn’t sure if it was out of fear or admiration.

And then her line of sight crawled back up his face, lingering on every single detail, and making a dead stop at his eyes. And now she knew she had been holding her breath, because she let out a soft gasp and it felt like all the pressure of the world had taken a step off her chest, and now she could breathe. Because those eyes of his… were scared – no – terrified at what was hanging before him, her. She was in his grasp and he was…... afraid of her, somehow.

Aube almost felt like she could muster a word, she needed to say something to him and it was right on the tip of her tongue.

But his eye had a vice grip on her throat and she couldn’t push anything passed her lips – and before she could get her act together, time had managed to speed up instead of remain slow and creeping. First time since he had entered the room that time seemed to be flowing normally, mainly because he had relinquished his grasp on her strap.

She felt like she was flying upwards, unable to process her body being sent bouncing against the mattress.

He had shrunk, moving further away from her as if to shield himself from her attack, his eyes still being the central focus of her thoughts. And her field of vision.

Her head shot forward as she felt her bounding come to an abrupt halt, a clear aching lingering on the back of her skull. Aube reached up to rub at it through her thick waves of hair – still unable to ignore his amazing expression. She wished so desperately that he understood her words because she truly had so many things to say.

All of them new things that had floated into her mind right at that second.

Any questions or lashes of anger she had rehearsed in her head for years were all but gone.

Ten years later and she was still captivated by the Oca prince, now free of shackles.

And all at once, he fled, throwing open the door to her four walls and vanishing through them, leaving only the slam to keep her company. She sat panting for a few seconds, or maybe a few minutes – Aube wasn’t totally sure how fast time was going by.

She giggled, amused that she hadn’t said a single thing, shocked that he was staring into her eyes for such a long time, and humbled by the new scars that he seemed to wear like medals.

Pride in the things he chose to sacrifice.

He was so beautiful to her.

The pounding from her head and the complaints from her now pulsing wings was all but on the back burner as his terrified face repeated over and over in her mind.

And she had been so taken aback by it that she hadn’t been able to muster something as simple as a, “Why?”

Language barrier or not, he should have been able to see that she was absolutely helpless beneath his gaze.

Curling up her legs so they were pressed against her chest, Aube bit her lip and sighed, her iridescent hair fell forward over her shoulders as she rested her forehead on top of her knees.

Just listening to her shaky breathing and her heartbeat ringing throughout her body.

She could also her the creaking of the bed as she shifted her weight around, the wail of insects not native to her kingdom. And mumbling right outside her door.

They were soft, almost like whispering, not that she’d be able to make out what the voices were saying.

But she definitely heard him.

A new softness in his dangerous tone added to the raspy nature he presented, even at thirteen he only graced her with a gravelly demeanor.

She had leaned so far toward the door, desperate to hear that tone she hadn’t even been able to fathom for so long. But then the door was opened, softly I may add, and a startled Aube tumbled down onto the rough, muddy floor. She let out an annoyed groan as she forced herself to sit up, of course she had to land in such a way that all of her weight was placed on her left shoulder.

And all of those waves of pain were shot down toward her wings.

Reaching behind her, Aube grabbed the tip of her left wing and began to rub it gently – it didn’t diminish the pain but it did send waves of good feelings through her.

It managed to even her out.

She had been so wrapped up in her issues that she had failed to notice the door closing - softly once again – and a giddy chuckling filling the room.

“Now that was a sight to behold.”

Aube’s eyes shot up from her bare feet toward the voice, surprised to hear her language in such a gray room. Her eyes stopped on royal purple hair pulled back into a tight bun, a starry gaze was looking down on her.

“Y-You’re speaking…..”

“Indeed.”

Her pronunciation was really good, as if she’d lived in Primevère just as long as Aube had.

Biting her lip, Aube’s eyes trailed down to the stranger’s feet – looking for any sign of her being Papillon.

“If you’re looking for my wings you’ll have a fruitless search.”

“You have our small feet and ankles…”

“The Papillon bone structure really is very fascinating.”

The woman flashed her a grin and she walked over and sat on the edge of bed, offering her hand down to Aube and keeping her eyes forward toward the wall opposite them.

Aube took it gently and was abruptly yanked to her feet, immediately losing her balance and falling on the bed next to the odd creature.

“You certainly aren’t an Oca, you’re too short and your skin doesn’t have any sort of armor…”

Chuckling, the lady replied, “Never said I was an Oca… just happen to live among them.”

“Why?”

“Well the king needed an advisor and nobody else in this palace speaks Papillon as fluent as I do.”

The woman smiled and held her arm outwards to examine her golden painted nails, definitely an Oca color and design, Aube found herself admitting.

Leaning back, she let out a soft gasp, in the place where most Papillon had two large burdens growing from their shoulder blades, Aube saw that the lady’s back was bare. A blank canvas – or perhaps livestock free from bindings was a more fitting analogy.

The woman saw Aube’s shocked face and smiled, “I was born without them. My mom had health issues and being pregnant with me was no picnic. Neither was raising me but that’s hardly her problem anymore.”

Aube nodded, babies altogether born without their wings was not common – but definitely wasn’t unheard of.

“When I reached eighteen years I left – couldn’t stand living a cookie cutter lifestyle.”

Aube raised and eyebrow, she wouldn’t know what kind of life her people lived, but she never assumed their lives were “cookie cutter” so to speak.

“Kinda wandered around for a few months, joining cults, eating grass, braiding flowers into ropes. Then I crashed my way into this castle and bada-bing bada-boom I’m hooked up with the sweet gig of being Bog’s advisor.”

“I-I thought you were th-the king’s advisor?”

The woman looked puzzled for a moment before clarity washed over her face and she snorted, patting Aube’ back and sending a wave of pain through her wings.

“Sorry sweetie, I haven’t spoken my native tongue in a long time. I guess I’ve lost my touch huh?”

Aube smiled sweetly and shook her head.

“Bog is the king. Damn it’s been five years and I still have no clue how to say his name in Papillon.”

That was fair.

Aube had no clue either.

She’d read it on paper plenty of times – didn’t make it any easier to make it out.

“A-And what’s your name?”

She locked onto the woman’s deep purple eyes and saw flashes of orange burst out every time she’d blink and the sunlight would reflect into them again.

Smiling, the woman crossed her arms over her chest.

“Just call me Siùcar baby.”

-

‘I’m a wall.’

She’s blocking – she’s protecting.

‘You’re a tool.’

She’s being held out like a flash of red before the bull, trying to make them charge; charge and crash into the wall. Putting them in pain.

‘No – she’s a weapon.’

Aube ran her hands through her hair roughly, pulling at the hair and sending throbbing pains to her scalp.

Sharing a species with Siùcar had given her hope, surly she wouldn’t want any harm to come Aube’s way. She was charming and funny and delivered the lines so gently Aube forgot just who this woman was beneath the soft skin. Who she was siding with.

It was easy to forget technical treason when you were on the other side of the border and just desperate to ensure your safety.

But while the former Papillon spoke cheerily and with a strange tone of encouragement, she was far from granting Aube any form of freedom. Rather, she succeeded where the king – Bog – had failed; instilling actual fear in Aube. Perhaps she had said the same things Bog had, just without raising her off the bed. It was a reminder that this wasn’t vacation, this was a cry for attention.

Aube was the trump card that they pulled out without a moment’s notice.

And now the Oca had the power to do whatever they wanted to her kingdom, her people.

Understanding the weight of Siùcar’s words – and the complete lack of sympathy in them – scared her, and now she knew that ten years was a long time to put good deeds behind someone.

They’re kingdoms were in the middle of a devastating war.

And his people were on the losing side.

Feeding him a piece of cheese wasn’t going change his bitterness for what her people had done to him. The scars alone showed the prices he paid over the years, and he wasn’t even king yet.

Aube was brought back to the dinner table on those rare occasions that the whole royal family would be at the palace at the same time. She remembered applauding Mari of her brave acts in the attempts to keep their world safe. Not ever wondering exactly what the Oca lost on those days the Mari wasn’t there to eat with them.

Just proud.

Proud of loss.

While their kingdom gained nothing of purpose.

Siùcar had stood up and roughly grabbed onto Aube’s right wrist, squeezing tighter the more she struggled.

“Just know this, I hate your kingdom and I hate your people. And the moment your family gives in, Bog isn’t going to be so forgiving. Even if it means holding a blade to your precious neck…”

She was spitting acid down on Aube and she could definitely feel a powerful burning sensation on her wrist.

Panting, she tried to pull her hand from the woman’s grasp – shocked to see the skin around Siùcar’s grip turning a blackish purple. And the earthy scent of the room seemed to be transforming in the smell of cooked flesh. Aube let out a loud cry of pain as the burning evolved into a stinging – almost as if millions of little needles were being stabbed into her thin wrist.

She looked up at Siùcar with pleading, teary eyes, her mouth stuck open as she realized she was in too much pain to speak.

The woman looked down at her with a cruel smile, and Aube had never felt more alone in her life.

-

Evidentially, what Siùcar was doing was some kind of magic.

‘It had to be an Oca spell, I’ve never heard of a Papillon spell that could do anything like this.’

Attached to Aube’s right wrist was a dark green chain that appeared to be growing out of the bedpost next to her. The skin around the chain had turned totally red and was beginning to travel up her arm and shoulder. She had found out the hard way that if she tried to struggle against the chain she’d be gifted with that unbearable burning and it wouldn’t let up for around an hour.

Aube was too delirious to keep track of time.

She wondered how long it would take until her family would deduct that the Oca were the ones to apprehend her.

Tears stubbornly rested in the corners of her eyes and constantly threatening to spill over and reveal her fears.

‘Rescuing me isn’t going to be their first move.’

Her father had been struggling to keep his upper hand and she knew that he wouldn’t just give in the title, leaving his kingdom at the mercy of the Oca king, for the sake of one daughter.

He couldn’t show that bias in front of his people.

She knew Mari would probably be yelling at him right now to let her go and attack the palace.

But he wasn’t gonna just risk his soldier’s lives that fast – not without any sort of plan.

Aube’s eyes clouded over as she thought about the disappointment in her mother’s face – her own daughter being apprehended so easily by the enemy.

Pathetic.

And she was supposed to represent their royal family?

Her foolishness, her weakness, had just trapped her kingdom in a corner.

And as if the foolishness would never end, Aube began to sob. Burying her face in her hands and hoping to trap all of her hopeless tears in her palms, being seen in tears by the opponent would only bring more shame upon her shoulders.

Yet the sobs were still dry and loud, causing her throat to burn and croak.

Totally unaware of Bog standing just outside her door, now too afraid to enter at the sound of her cries.

-

The red crawling up her arm is definitely getting more primary, Aube could almost say it looks like blood.

Just beneath the surface of her skin and getting angrier and threatening to break through.

Her eyes stung and the pain only brought more tears to rest just along her lids – it wasn’t just movement that seemed to be causing the binding to stab at her. In fact, after several hours of trying to soothe the pain away, Aube realized that the shackle was slowly tightening.

‘This is nothing…’

She pictured the scars all along Bog’s armor, all of them holding a story involving pain – hopefully no tears.

She winced, the tips of her fingers had gone pins and needles and she was way too afraid to look down and admire the horrifying discoloration that had begun to appear. The binding would most likely continue to tighten until it would finally cut into her flesh and all the angry red would flow free.

‘This is nothing.’

Hot tears were silently falling onto her lap, bearing the same pink shimmer as her skin.

Aube remembered when her mother had tried to bottle up her tears, filling almost four boxes of it and sending it off to the front lines. She had seen the way they shimmered and had the hopes that they possessed the healing power.

Mari had immediately sent all the boxes back, only one bottle having been opened, and a note saying:

“Mama, these don’t heal. They kill.”

While Aube’s hands healed any and every ailment, her tears ended everything – putting people in pain out of their misery.

While her touch brought hope and a reason to keep on living, her tears gave up all hope and chose to permanently end suffering. 

All they did to Aube was cause the undersides of her eyelids to dry out and hot streams along her cheeks to go cold.

Times like these made her blessing feel like a curse.

And then she’d remember those scars.

‘This is nothing!’

But it had to be something, because it was becoming impossible to shrug off.

It was unimaginable for Aube to go numb, ever since her eyes had first opened to the light of life she had felt things so deeply. Rocking her to her core for some of the simplest emotions, moved to tears or robbed of breath as if it was as common as blinking. Her skin was sensitive to the air around her – able to sense the smallest shift in a breeze, and a strong chill running up her spine in response.

‘This-…’

She rubbed at her shoulder, upper lip going stiff.

‘…Is… nothing…’

-

As she rests her head against the bedpost, she finally begins to adjust her eyes to the blackness surrounding her.

The pain overcoming the right side of her body was becoming way too powerful and she couldn’t convince herself to sleep. The cool night breeze that was always a constant comfort can do nothing for her and she can’t help but apologize to her dried-out eyes for not having the strength to keep them closed.

The moonlight is definitely mocking her.

As if she needed to be reminded of her pathetic-ness by a calming celestial body.

Instead of crying – Aube was fairly certain she had run out of tears for the next century or so – she chose to sigh and massage at the back of her neck.

The incessant whining of the creatures outside of the window had become sort of comforting to her, providing a sound that kept her from drifting into insanity.

Back at home, there would be the ticking of a clock or stomping of a soldier’s boots, counting out the seconds rather than flowing freely like the song of a cicada. As if they were serenading her and trying the best they could to keep her thoughts away from her purple hand – that she had since lost all feeling in. They tried… but it didn’t work.

A particularly horrid pain shot through her arm and Aube bit into her lip, no point in crying out when there was no chance anybody would care.

She had since abandoned her mantra hours ago.

Obviously this “nothing” was something, and it was something bad.

Aube’s hands saved lives, and she was most likely going to lose one of them by morning.

Resting her forehead against the bedpost, she let a deep breath through her nose and kept track of the songs bouncing off each other. So long as they kept singing, she’d be okay.

That song was slowly interrupted by the click of a latch being released.

Aube brought her attention toward the sound coming from the door to her prison, confused who would be up this far into the song. She only needed to see blue eyes before she froze up and brought her full attention front and center.

‘He’s here…’

‘Why?’

He manages to maintain eye contact with her for about a minute before he closes the door and keeps his eyes on the source of light.

Which sadly isn’t her.

She watches his movements with bated breath, unable to focus on the fact that he’s moving toward her and more on the fact that he’s moving at all.

There’s a slight hesitation in every little action he takes and Aube can’t tell if it’s because of her or it’s because that’s who he is. More careful than he’s given credit for.

‘Am I holding my breath?’ She isn’t totally sure, and she can’t be bothered to double check because the pressure on her chest could be any number of things and at the moment it feels like anything but unpleasant.

Before she can decide if she’s at a loss of breath, he’s right before her and he’s tall. She had somehow missed this earlier in the day but, he’s gigantic and completely dwarfing her in comparison. Had he been this much taller than her all those years ago? Granted, the Papillon came from pixie heritage, while they weren’t the size of oak leaves – they still were pretty compact as far as average heights went. On the other side of the spectrum, the Oca were the distant offspring of giants, and that life story spoke for itself.

He’s bent down now – in an attempt to bring them eye-to-eye; which Aube would have to thank the large bed for giving her the strength to sit straight. Unfortunately, he’s still not meeting her eyes and she still can’t help but feel like that’s her fault – although she’s not totally sure what kind of effect she has on him.

His hot breath rushes along her collarbone and the singing begins to grow quiet as her mind zones out.

All of her thoughts are centered on his face and his breath and his proximity to her face and the solemn expression resting in his eyes.

‘Is it because he’s tired? Or because I’m here?’

She can’t hear all the songs over the sounds of her thoughts surfacing and yelling out in every direction and it takes every little bit of will she can hold onto not to shout out these questions to his moonlight covered face.

And then, all her questions were gone – totally silent – snuffed out by the bright blue that meets her tired eyes.

His gaze isn’t completely still, there’s a clear fidgeting in his stance and if she wasn’t so breathless, Aube would probably be smiling.

And God did she want to break out laughing in hopes of seeing his sharp grin that she just knows he’s capable of.

But instead of a laugh and brightness returning to her eyes, Aube lets out a squeak when he suddenly brings his hand up to her problemed wrist. Just another thing to add to her pile of pathetic, but rather than be embarrassed by the childish noise she unearthed, she’s in awe.

He licks his lip and Aube can picture her sister slapping her for staring at a man’s (much less the enemy’s) lips.

“Tha mi duilich…”

Is it obvious that she’s at a loss for words? Because her mouth is hanging agape but nothing is spilling free. All those words she had just moments ago had been killed off by the moonlight reflecting off of all that blue.

A shiver runs up her arm and it’s the first good feeling she’s felt all day, his thumb gently stroking her wrist.

Something rather tender for a brutal ruler, and it’s directed at her.

And as if this night could feel anymore like a dream, a bright green glow has begun to emanate from her wrist. It quickly overtakes the whole room and Aube finds that she needs to squint. When the comforting green haze finally begins to disappear and they’re back in the darkness, Aube can no longer feel his grip on her skin.

But she can no longer feel the grip of her chain either.


End file.
